Would Smell As Sweet
by the sun and the other stars
Summary: After being gone years, Nathalie returns to Beacon Hills. Stiles doesn't expect her to pay much attention to him, not when he's the social reject, and she's the new Ms. Popular. But being Ms. Popular doesn't mean she's not sweet, and fragile, doesn't mean she hasn't been through enough already. And people who have gone through hard times are never to be underestimated.


So this is my first time trying a Teen Wolf fic, so if critique is welcomed, but if you could refrain from useless flaming, I would appreciate it. That being said, any feedback you have is more than welcome. So, what you need to know is:

I've skipped ahead until when the gang are just about to enter their Senior Year. I wasn't very specific on the events that transpired from when Season Two left off (that's a whole year and a summer, right?) so if you like, you can make up what happened. I'll probably hint at things, and obviously not everything will be the exact same after over a year, so just a heads up.

This will be primarily a Stiles-fic, since I think he deserves some love. I was going to try a Derek fic first, but I figured I better start with someone I'm not _quite _as emotionally attached to.

Also, this will be one of those fics that a lot of people hate, where they put some song lyrics or a quote or something at the start of every chapter. I've gotten hate for that before, so if it really bugs you that much, please try to simply ignore it.

Okay, I think that's all. Happy reading!

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**Prologue**

"Dad, do we have to talk about this right now?" Stiles muttered, scowling as he tucked into his cheeseburger. He didn't want to look up at his father and meet his piercing, unyielding stare.

"Well, we're going to have to talk about it sometime, you know," the sheriff reminded him, sighing. "You've only got a year left. And you gotta go to college somewhere."

Stiles chewed on his lips; after a few seconds, he shook his father's remark off his shoulders and tucked in to his cheeseburger. He knew his father was right. His grades were good - almost perfect, if he could have been a little more focused, and college was something he'd been looking forward to since he was twelve years old. But there was a knot in his stomach every time he thought about it that summer. There was something about going to college this time next year that made him - well, not scared. But it made him uneasy. Like there was something missing.

And glancing over at his father, who had taken them for fast food in the cop car for the second time this week, as the sheriff was attacking his double hamburger, his worry bubbling in his stomach roared and tugged at his heart.

He sighed, telling himself not to think like that. It wasn't worth it. Besides, he had all of Senior Year to get through - and frankly, there was no guaranteeing that he _would _get through it, the ways things usually turned out around here.

"Well, all I'm saying is -" Stiles' father was cut off by his radio on his shoulder. Stiles was opening the bag of steaming hot fries when his father swerved the car aggressively into motion. Stiles yelped as the bag of fries fell to the floor and he clung onto his seat.

"Jeez, Dad," he said indignantly, listening to the call-in from another police officer. "It's just a car crash. It'll still be crashed when you get there."

His father just managed to spare his son a disparaging glance before turning his eyes back to the road, setting the siren on to blare. Stiles shrunk in his seat, still lamenting over the now inedible fries littered around his feet.

"You stay here," his father said threateningly, swinging himself out of the car. The sight on the road was one of pure devastation. It was pouring rain; one car lay in pieces scattered across the road, while the other car was bent so badly out of shape, Stiles wouldn't have hazarded a guess that it was a car.

Promptly ignoring his father's order, and the consecutive barked order to get back in the car, he clambered out of the car and swallowed a lump in his throat at the terrible shape of the car.

"Stiles, back in the car!"

Stiles shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and took a few steps, noticing his father's mouth was a thin, taut line. There was a sick feeling flourishing in the pit of his stomach, listening intently to his father as he stayed fast on his heels.

"Stiles, I told you to wait in the car," his father hissed, shaking his head. Stiles shrugged his shoulders innocently, glancing over at a pair of paramedics, crouched over a stretcher, and another pair sitting out the back of an ambulance, checking someone's vitals.

"Dad, whose car is that?" Stiles asked.

"Stiles, I swear to God - " his father started. But Stiles had already stopped listening. "Isn't that Officer Lynch's daughter?" he demanded, nodding over to the girls sitting in the back of the ambulance.

The sheriff let out a bitter sigh. "You better get Andrew down here," he said to one of the other police officers. It hadn't been five days ago that Stiles had stood beside his father while that girl buried her mother. He remembered the dazed, lifeless expression on her face. She wasn't even crying while they lowered the coffin. She hadn't shed one tear. She was past that, he had supposed.

But she had _recognized _him. She hadn't lived here since her parents divorced when she was about eight, but she had still remembered him, remembered that he liked to go by a nickname. It was strange, to have her exclaim his name and tell him how long at had been, while she still remained so lifeless.

When his father moved, he followed him over to the girl, who was having a deep, angry gash across her forehead mopped up, while another paramedic was shining a torch in her eyes. She glanced up at the pair of them, blinking her eyes like she was trying to force them to focus.

"Nathalie, are you alright?"

"I - I don't know what happened," she said to Stiles' father, stuttering. Her mascara had bled down her cheeks, leaving tracks of her tears. "I just - I just lost control for a second." She shook her head. "One minute I was just thinking, and then the next -"

She broke off like she was choking, gasping for breath. "Stiles, go wait in the car," his father muttered.

"But - " Stiles started to protest, but his father shoved his shoulder towards the car, and grumbling he conceded to watch the scene unfold through the windows, which were blurred so badly he could barely see.

It was about twenty minutes later that his father leaped back into the car. "Alright, we're going to the hospital."

"Officer Lynch -" Stiles started.

"Is on his way there," supplied his father.

"And Nathalie?"

His father glanced at him as he started the car. "She's just a bit shook up. She still wants to go to the hospital," he said then. "I'm gonna need to talk to Andrew about this." He told Stiles to stay with her while he talked to her father once they got the hospital.

And he did. He stayed with her and gave her a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. He got her tea from the tea-maker while his father and her father talked, and she stared blankly into space.

"I just went blank," she muttered.

"Were you thinking about your mom?"

She blinked at him, surveying him for what seemed like the longest moment in his life, and then she nodded. "Yeah. I was." He expected her to cry, but she didn't. Maybe she was too shocked to cry.

He would have told her more, he would have said something to try and make her feel better. But he didn't. Not just yet.

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This is a prologue, yes. But reviews are still appreciated. Not to bribe anybody, but I generally do review back because when someone's nice, it's nice to be nice back. So anyway, feedback is great, yata yata. Happy Holidays, everybody!


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